


The Pantsless Revolution

by temperamental_mistress



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temperamental_mistress/pseuds/temperamental_mistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Courfeyrac decides his friends are much too stressed, and the obvious solution is to declare a ban on trousers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pantsless Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> For Remoo, who put the idea in my head while I was at work, thereby ensuring nothing productive got done that day.

With two protests and a worker’s strike on the schedule, exams were the last thing any of the Amis wanted to consider. It was unthinkable, really, asking them to sit for exams when there were real injustices going on in the street. It wasn’t long before the stress became tangible and things got ugly. Combeferre and Enjolras took to sniping at one another across a table about when the other had last slept. Jehan was no longer on speaking terms with anyone after their coffee was spilled before they could get a single sip. No one had seen Marius in days.

And so, Courfeyrac had decided to take matters into his own hands. He invited everyone to join him at the apartment he shared with Marius, assuring them that a change of scenery would help them in all of their endeavors. The staff of the Café Musain did a poor job of hiding their relief at the promise of a short reprieve from the stressed students’ near constant presence.

What Courfeyrac had failed to mention in his invitation was the new rule: anyone who passed over the threshold was required to remove their trousers. No exceptions.

Enjolras and Combeferre were the first to arrive, still grumbling at one another as Courfeyrac opened the door clad only in a t-shirt and a pair of blindingly lime green boxers covered in pink hearts. The grumbling stopped dead in its tracks.

Several minutes later found the pair of them seated at Courf’s kitchen table, sans trousers, resuming their work. It had taken a roundabout discussion of the oppressive nature of trousers, but Enjolras had at last been convinced.

Grantaire didn’t question the rule for an instant, and cast aside his shirt as well. It would mean less clothing to wash paint out of in the end, he insisted, before settling down by the window to catch the last of the day’s light.

Feuilly was confused, to say the least, but the promise of a fresh cup of coffee coaxed him inside, and he relented. If even Enjolras was participating in these shenanigans, he could think of no reason to refuse.

It was around this point that Combeferre had the foresight to warn the remainder of the group before they arrived. There was a long delay before the door opened again, and it quickly became apparent why.

Jehan had braided an assortment of wildflowers into their hair to match the vibrant flowers on their sundress, and was looking significantly calmer than they had in the aftermath of the coffee incident. Joly and Bossuet followed close behind, the former in Chetta’s favorite polka-dot skirt, the latter quick to explain that he wasn’t allowed to wear Chetta’s skirts anymore, mumbling something about a broken lamp.

The last to arrive was Bahorel, who had somehow acquired a kilt. Courfeyrac nearly wept with joy at the sight, for the laughter that followed from the group had been exactly what he’d hoped to achieve in this mission.

It was several hours later, when Bahorel was giving his fourth wildly different account of where the kilt had come from, that a different door in the apartment opened. Marius emerged from his room, bleary-eyed and exhausted. He didn’t question the fact that his friends were draped across every couch and chair, books and pamphlets covering every available surface. It was only when he’d crossed to the kitchen and retrieved a cup of coffee for himself that he realized everyone was silently staring at him.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” he asked, certain now that he’d managed to miss some important protest, or worse, an exam. He was tempted to count heads to make sure no one had been arrested.

“Your trousers, Marius.” Combeferre said, at the same moment that Courfeyrac demanded to know where his roommate had been for the last week.

Courfeyrac’s question went unanswered, as Marius frantically looked to his trousers. Had he spilled coffee on them again? A glance around the room at his boxer and skirt-clad companions made his eyes go wide and a furious blush spread over his freckled cheeks. “Oh.” He eyed his door, contemplating his retreat. “Um…”

“We voted - everyone agreed the rule stands,” Combeferre had returned to his book, not looking up as he explained. He realized that Marius could not have seen the sign on the apartment door, banning the presence of any who refused to join the Pantsless Revolution.

“Ah…well, if majority agrees…” Marius mumbled, sipping at his coffee anxiously. He lamented that Cosette had recently retrieved all of the clothing she’d left at the apartment, insisting that it needed to be laundered. This left him without a skirt to borrow. Still, something told him that Courfeyrac was never going to allow him to disappear into his room again, and if he wished to remain (which, of course he did, just the sight of his friends was enough to relieve the weight of the exam stress he was carrying), he had to abide by the rules.

He spent the remainder of the evening with his face redder than a cherry, but Marius did ultimately add his trousers to the pile on the back of the couch, and managed to smile and relax for the first time in quite a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might very well be the first time I've written a fic since I was twelve or so. It's definitely the first time I've ever been willing to let anyone see what I've written.


End file.
